Squeaky Clean
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: It takes a high level of trust to be the person who cleans Mr. Waverly's windows, but when he looks in and sees something wrong, this Working Stiff must decided whether to do the right thing or the easy thing. My thanks to Rachaeljurassic for the prompt


Everybody has a destiny in life. I didn't know mine was going to be washing windows, but I have to confess that I love it. Well, I'm not crazy about the window washing part per se, but I get to do something I live for. I get to hang over the side of the building and get a bird's eye few of the city.

As a kid, I loved heights. The higher they were, the better I liked it. In gym, I was always the first one up the ropes. It wasn't that I necessarily enjoyed climbing ropes. Nope. It was that I loved looking at the gym from the top of the rail.

How I ended up taking a test for UNCLE is still a bit of a mystery. An aunt of a cousin heard something and suddenly I'm being ushered into a room with twenty other guys. We had to fill out the usual paperwork, take some tests, all pretty routine stuff.

Then we were led, one-by-one, into the small room. There was this little blond guy, I later learned it was Mr. Kuryakin, and he asked some questions. Then he excused himself and got up to leave. Something fell from his pocket, but he was gone before I could say anything.

I got up and went over to look at it. It was a hundred dollar bill. I'd never seen one before and the mere thought of holding it made me tinge. This was enough to pay my rent and bills for nearly two months.

But when push came to shove, I couldn't do it. It wasn't right, so I picked up the bill and walked out the door. The blond guy was gone, but there was a real pretty lady sitting at a desk. She had great big eyes and a sweet smile.

"May I help you?" Her voice was all sing songy and I got a funny feeling inside.

"Where did that other fella go?" I was a little afraid to speak to her because she looked so lovely.

"Mr. Kuryakin? I don't know."

"Well, he dropped this and I wanted to make sure he got it back. If you see that he gets it, I would be beholding to you." I held out the bill and a large hand engulfed mine. I jumped and turned. Mr. Kuryakin was standing there with this big grin on his face.

"Congratulations, Mr. Stoner, you have passed the final test. We need someone who is honest and can be trusted. You were the only one to hand in the money."

I smiled back. "I wanted to do what was right. It isn't mine."

His grin widened. "It is now. Consider it your signing bonus. Be here at eight on Monday morning and your training will begin."

Do you know how many windows there are in UNCLE HQ? Two thousand, seven hundred and fifty three, give or take, but there is only one set that is really, really important. That is the window in Mr. Waverly's office. It's the only one that looks out over the city that's real. The rest are just fake - window dressing, I guess you could all them. I wash them all because it would look strange to wash just one set and folks notice stuff like that.

Anyhow, once a month, I'd lower my platform down to Mr. Waverly office and tap on the window, just so he knew I'm there. No matter what, he always smiled and gave me a little wave. I think he'd like to exchange places with me. No real pressure, no real stress, just the outside and a great view.

I look back now and think about it, but nothing was outstanding. It was just a regular day when I arrived and a one-of-a-kind day when it was all over.

I pulled on my jumpsuit and gathered all my window cleaning stuff up. Loading my platform, I checked all the mechanism and ropes. Not only is it a good practice, but it was just plain smart. My life depended upon it.

So, over the edge I go and head towards Mr. Waverly's windows. The sun is just starting to peek over the neighboring building so I have a great view into his office. This is my favorite time to clean because it's the easiest to see the streaks. The other windows, I don't care, but this set I take special pride in.

I got the platform in place and looked in. Mr. Waverly was sitting on his couch and his secretary was sitting beside him. It seemed a little weird, but it was none of my concern. I gave the window a tap and he didn't move, even though I knew he heard me. The secretary looked and then sort of cringed as someone came to stand in front of her.

I don't know why, but I flattened myself against the building and a minute later I could see someone trying to see out, shading his eyes against the sunlight that was shining in.

Something was very wrong and I didn't know exactly what I should do. After a few minutes, I grabbed the rope and began to raise the platform very slowly. It probably only too fifteen minutes to clear the window, but it felt like hours. I quickly hauled my way back up to the roof.

I dropped over the side and headed for the stairwell. This time of day, there was sure to be someone in the canteen.

I ran for all I was worth and skidded to a stop in front of the doors. A few folks looked up, but most of them just ignored me. That's when I saw him and thanked my lucky stars.

Pushing my way through other people past tables and chairs, I hurried up to his table. He glanced up at me, a slight smile on his lips.

"Mr. Kuryakin, you probably don't remember me, but you hired me." I sort of wrung my hands as I spoke. I knew it wasn't lost on him.

"I remember you, Mr. Stoner. What can I do for you?"

"I think Mr. Waverly is in trouble." Suddenly you could hear a pin drop in the canteen and I looked around a little uneasily.

"What do you mean?" Mr. Kuryakin was very serious.

"He's acting weird. There are a couple of strangers and his secretary with him."

Mr. Kuryakin sort of relaxed. "That isn't odd, Mr. Stoner. That is the French Ambassador and his attaché with Mr. Waverly. Ms. Rogers is probably just there as an observer and to take notes."

"Sir, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I've looked through those windows plenty of times and something's not right. I can tell. I can feel it."

"All right." Mr. Kuryakin pulled out his pen when it suddenly beeped. I jumped and he smiled again at me. "Kuryakin."

There was a moment of silence, then a sharp crackle. "Illya, we're taking fire. The Ambassador is dead. We need back up."

Mr. Kuryakin got really serious then. "On its way. Keep you channel open." He stood up. "Killigan, Steward, back up at the airport! Triangulate on Solo's signal." Several men in the canteen sprang to life, racing for the door. "Napoleon, help is on the way. Napoleon?!"

"I'm here. We're secure for the moment."

Mr. Kuryakin stared down the pen and then over at me.

"Then who is in with Mr. Waverly, Mr. Kuryakin?" I asked softly.

"Let's go find out."

I stepped out onto the window washing platform and watched Mr. Kuryakin hesitate to follow. "It's okay. It's safe."

After a moment, he slipped over the edge to join me, but I noticed he kept one hand on the cables, though. He looked a little lost in my extra jumpsuit, but it was okay. We looked like window cleaners and that should be enough to trick the guys inside the office.

I lowered the platform back down to Mr. Waverly's window and was relieved to see him and his secretary still sitting on the couch. Mr. Waverly looked a little messed up and the lady's hair was all this way and that, like she'd been toweling it off. I suspected it wasn't anything quite as nice. I could tell she'd been crying.

"What do we do now?" I kept my voice low, just in case.

"Can you get the windows open from this side?"

"No. These windows don't work that way. I don't even know if you can open them from the inside either. What do you think we should do?"

"When in doubt, I say jump in with both feet." He knocked on the window and I saw Mr. Waverly jump. This time he did look at us and suddenly the two guys were standing there, glaring out at us. They talked amongst themselves for a minute and then starting searching the windows. After a minute, one of them must have found the latch and forced one of the windows open. I was impressed.

"What do you want?" His voice was heavily accented. It was French, I thought, but I didn't know.

Mr. Kuryakin looked at me and crossed his legs. "_Туалет__?__" _

"He don't speak English good like me," I explained, taking on a grand air of importance. "He's gotta use the crapper. Can't really go over the edge or the cops would be all over us after we were all over them." I snickered at my attempt at humor. No one paid me any attention.

That seemed to have an impact. Mr. Talkie turned back to the other fellow and they muttered to each other for a couple of seconds while Mr. Kuryakin did a little dance. If it wasn't so dangerous, it would have been a little funny. "Okay, come through."

Mr. Kuryakin slipped through the window and I started to follow, but the speaker pulled out a gun and pointed it at my chest. "Just him, genius."

"Okay, you don't gotta be so mean about it." I stepped back and held my hands up. "I'll just go about my business then. Pee fast," I ordered. "I ain't doing all your work."

"_Da, da,"_ Illya muttered and started to push past the other guy. He moved so fast I never even saw him hit the guy. That fella went down like a ton of bricks, but then I saw Mr. Talkie aimed his gun at Mr. Kuryakin.

"Hey, Frenchie!" I yelled. He looked back at me and got a face full of soapy water for his trouble. Sure wish he'd taken his finger off the trigger, though. The bullet caught me in the side and I crumpled down on the scaffold. I remembered seeing the sun catching the building just then and the window surface gleamed. I would die, knowing I'd done a good job.

Except, of course, I didn't die. When I woke up in Medical, there were all sorts of flowers all over the room. At first, I was afraid I'd woken up during my funeral.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Stoner?" I saw Mr. Kuryakin first and then Mr. Solo. He had his arm in a sling.

I tried to shift and winced at the stab of pain in my side. I couldn't imagine doing something for a living that got you shot at all the time. "Okay, I guess. Is Mr. Waverly okay?"

"He certainly is and so is Illya, thanks to your fast thinking." Mr. Solo looked really tired and I noticed that Mr. Kuryakin was keeping an eye on him.

"Where did all these flowers come from?"

"You are very much the man of the hour and there are lots of pretty young things who are hoping to make an impression on you. There will be a commendation in this for you and a pay raise."

"I don't need a commendation. I was just doing what felt right. I wouldn't have minded having something to send up a SOS, though. I was really scared of what might happen to Mr. Waverly while I was getting help."

"I will suggest that to Section Eight," Mr. Kuryakin said with a smile. "Perhaps they can throw something together, but now I think I need to get Mr. Solo home. Having an elderly woman nearly break one's arm is exhausting."

I could tell he was joking, but Mr. Solo got all riled up anyhow. They were just walking out the door and Mr. Solo turned back. "You know, Mr. Stoner, we could use a man like you in Section Two."

"Thanks, but I'll stick with my windows. It's a little cold at times, but you can't beat the view."

I watched them leave and looked at all the flowers. I sure hoped there was one from that pretty little thing that I met the day I applied. Maybe I could impress her with my scar. I smiled and leaned back against the pillows. Yup, there are some things worth getting shot for.


End file.
